Angela, it’s not your fault.
Repeat with me, “IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT”
You have been dealt murky, vile cards and you have managed to come this far.
Honey, what hasn’t killed you ought to try much harder.
Angela, have no fear. You will not be like her. This is very important.
The fact that you are even thinking about it, about that possibility, proves that you are already exponentially different from her.
Let her paint you as The Devil incarnate because she’s is an incredibly magical artist –in case you didn’t know that already.
Let her do that, all because she needs a hobby and you have the strength it takes to look away.
She’ll make herself the victim. Say that you’re the worst thing to happen to her.
She’ll say it in private and public alike. She’ll tell it the same way to everyone she knows.
They’ll feel sorry for her and she’ll love it!
You recognize her incorrectness, but do not correct her because that’ll only make you look like an ass and she love that too!
Let her put on her show. Boil over with that boisterously evil cackle of hers.
AH AH AH AHHHH!
She’s got people to impress – but actually she’s got her own demons to conceal.
BE her concealer, that good good BB Cream baby, because you know how truly messed up and irreparable she is. Speaking of concealer… Don’t stare at yourself in any reflective surface too long. Your mind will fool you into seeing her wrinkles doubled onto yours. She’s in your head – STONEWALL HER.
Angela, never repeat your problems in her presence, much less directly to her. To confide in her equates sheer pleasure unto her.
She yearns for your downfall just so she’ll have the opportunity to kick more dirt and grime into your face and have more of a reason to drag you through it all.
Yes, it’s natural to want to go to her for help. She’s your mother! And society has taught you that a mother’s love is like no other. They got that right! It’s like no other because there is no love there.
Never let her see you cry. Every tear goes into her collection of ovation and you ought not be used in such a way.
Never tell her of your happiness and successes either. She’ll hate that and wish misery upon you. Hell on Earth exists, my love, and you’ve learned to navigate it.
It’s okay to be down. To feel hurt and betrayed. To be affected in ways that may never make sense. To be caught off guard because being on duty 24/7, 365, is incredibly exhausting.
Angela, someday you’ll be a wife and maybe even a mother… Don’t fret. You won’t be her.
You’ll encounter a partner who is equipped and ready to handle your baggage without asking for anything in return. That’s all you’ve ever wanted and all you’ll ever need.
You’ll inevitably displace that support and amity onto your child and you’ll be everything your mother wasn’t and more.
All because you’re different. Worthy. Angela.